


pragma

by yaskiers



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaskiers/pseuds/yaskiers
Summary: “Do I love you?” The question was soft, and Geralt hardly recognized his own voice.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99





	pragma

Geralt of Rivia was unused to having friends. Well, not exactly  _ friends _ , more a Friend. Singular. A Single Friend. 

He was unused to most human contact, honestly- beyond a glare and some tossed coins, a plate of shitty food thrown in front of him, a flinch and a gasp, hell, the most human contact he had had in months was being punched. 

His… inexperience, led him to confusion. A lot of confusion. Especially when Jaskier was concerned. His Friend.

He truly wasn’t sure how humans behaved, preferring to ignore their petty squabbles and observing, interfering only if there was coin involved. So he had absolutely no idea if what he was feel- if what was  _ afflicting _ him, was normal. 

Was it normal for his heartbeat to speed up whenever the bard came near him, so fast that it would be normal for anyone else?

Was it normal for him to feel this,  _ protectiveness _ , something surging within him, a sudden need to make sure the bard was safe?

Was it normal for his breath to be knocked away, as sure as if Roach had kicked him straight in the chest, just because the bard smiled?

He had absolutely no fucking clue, and it was tearing him up. 

The bard. Jaskier. Jaskier the bard. His Friend. 

(A small part of Geralt, a part he did his best to hide- to crush down forever so he wouldn’t have to deal with it, marveled at the fact that he could- even if only in the safety of his mind- call someone that. A Friend.  _ His _ Friend.) 

It was, of course, Jaskier’s idea to come to the tavern in Temeria, after their latest contract had brought them in the region, and Jaskier’s face had suddenly lit up, and for some reason, Geralt had not been able to deny him.

“Geralt- oh, you’ll love this place, I am certain, the wine is nectar from the gods themselves- don’t look at me like that, I’m serious, and the women, oh the women, are the goddesses reincarnated!”

Well, Geralt may be loath to admit it, but he did love wine and women (though certainly not as much as the bard).

And so it happened. 

Jaskier, as was the norm, performed in the tavern, his voice steady and unwavering, despite the copious amounts of alcohol Geralt knew he had consumed. (And not for the first time, or the last, Geralt wondered if there might be more to the bard than what meets the eye. If there was a reason, one better left unsaid, for the glint in his eye when something a bit too lucky happened to them. Geralt, of course, dismissed his thoughts as paranoia. Such was the life of a Witcher, he mused, seeing that which isn’t there.) 

The crowd was receptive of their latest adventure, embellished, of course. 

_ “For the drama, Geralt,” Jaskier would always say, his smile small and daring, as if he was challenging Geralt to say something against it. Geralt’s traitorous heart did something odd, in that moment.  _

Coins were thrown, laughs were loud, drinks were plenty. It was Jaskier’s natural home. There certainly was an art in the movements of the bard, as he skillfully traversed the crowded room, dodging tankards and weaving through the tables. His voice always seemed as if it came from everywhere, and yet still far away enough that everyone was on the edge of their seats, their full attention on Jaskier, as if the second they leaned back the music would vanish.

Geralt sat in the back, his eyes also on the bard. As Jaskier performed, Geralt felt something, something he wasn’t sure he had felt in  _ years _ , suddenly flooded him. It was pride. Pride at another’s accomplishments, pride at the bard- pride at his  _ friend _ , who managed to do something no other had done before: turn a Witcher into a hero. Geralt was no hero, he knew this, and so did Jaskier. But in the eyes of the people of the Continent, to the  _ children _ ? The bard had single handedly given Geralt one of the most precious gifts of all. Acceptance.

Or, at least, a small form of it. 

It was late when they finally retired to their room. Of course there was only one room, with only one bed, because apparently every tavern in the fucking Continent only had one-bed rooms. Geralt opened the door with a sigh, the bard stumbling slightly behind him. 

It seemed that while Jaskier’s voice may remain firm well into his cups, his legs would not. 

The bard fell onto the bed with a groan, and likely the beginnings of a headache, judging by his expression. 

“Geralt, my dear friend,” he exclaimed, slinging an arm over his eyes. Geralt firmly stamped down his reaction to being called a friend so easily, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I believe this is the end for me. You will have to abandon me here, for I fear I shan’t ever rise again.” 

Bards. Overdramatic annoyances, the lot of them. 

Not even bothering to hide his eye roll, Geralt placed his sword and sheath firmly near his bag and kicked off his boots. He turned away from the bed, facing the filthy mirror at the edge of the room, and pulled out the leather hair tie from the edge of his braid, slowly unraveling the strands. When he was finally finished, he made his way over to the bed, sinking into the blankets easily. 

Jaskier rolled, until he was facing Geralt. His blue eyes shone in the candle light, and he stared at Geralt. 

Geralt, for some reason he couldn’t name, not in the moment, and certainly not later, reached a hand up to cup Jaskier’s face. 

And then he kissed him. 

It was feather-light, and short, and honestly Geralt likely would have doubted it could even count as a kiss, had he not been busy panicking internally. He stared at Jaskier, and Jaskier stared right back. 

“Geralt,” the bard began, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Do I love you?” The question was soft, and Geralt hardly recognized his own voice. But he needed an answer, he needed a reason for all of these  _ things _ he had been feeling. 

“Oh.” Jaskier said, the unreadable expression having given way to surprise. “No, love, no you don’t.” Geralt wasn’t sure how the bard knew this, how he knew something Geralt himself could never have figured out- and yet he knew, he knew that Jaskier was right. “Not in the way you mean. You love me as all friends do, and Geralt-” Jaskier grabbed one of Geralt’s hands, bringing it between them. “it’s alright. I think that after a lifetime of ignoring your emotions, it would be rather startling to suddenly have them, wouldn’t it.” Jaskier shifted, and Geralt moved with him, until they were suddenly close, with Geralt’s head resting on Jaskier’s chest as the bard played with his hair. It felt… nice.

“There are different kinds of love, you know.” Jaskier continued, his voice soothing, as if Geralt was the baby deer they had stumbled upon, years ago, it’s eyes wild and skittish. “You can love someone like family, the way you love a sister, or a father. You can love someone like a lover, which is the form of love everyone seems to care about. And you can love someone like a friend, Geralt.”

Like a friend. 

Yes, Geralt of Rivia loved Jaskier the bard. 

But only as a friend. 

**Author's Note:**

> did I, ao3 user wlwmorgana just write a geraskier fic that 1) didnt end in angst and 2) had geralt and jaskier both straight? 
> 
> happy april fools.
> 
> the prompts for this drabble came from my wonderful mutual jana (@geraltshutup ):  
> "si writing a not-tagged seemingly soft fic only to end it very painfully for april fools" & "BETTER YET si writing straight geralt and jaskier fic"
> 
> honestly im not sure I delivered all too well, but I tried?  
> basically Geralt is just really affection-starved and thinks hes in love with jaskier because he really doesn't know how to handle emotions. he isn't, he just doesn't know how to handle caring for a friend.  
> feel free to interpret this as romantic! while it wasn’t written as romantic i can definitely see the subtext skskdkdk. 
> 
> anyways let me know what you think in the comments! thanks for reading :)
> 
> hmu on twitter @wlwmorgana


End file.
